


Come the War

by falling_awake



Category: The Hobbit (2012), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen, could be gen, could be ~romance~, here be sads, i am so sorry guys, inspired by art?????, not happy things, not really shippy or anything?????, take your pick brosis, this just happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-28
Updated: 2013-02-28
Packaged: 2017-12-03 20:48:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/702501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falling_awake/pseuds/falling_awake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The pain doesn’t hit him till afterwards, when the orcs and their warg mounts are dead or dying, the terrible shrieking cries echoing in a way that Fili thinks might just settle in his ears and never leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come the War

The pain doesn’t hit him till afterwards, when the orcs and their warg mounts are dead or dying, the terrible shrieking cries echoing in a way that Fili thinks might just settle in his ears and never leave. There’s relief certainly, but somehow along the way Orc raids have lost their fierce novelty and Fili just finds himself _tired_ , aching as he reaches back to put away his axes and that’s when there’s a burst of pain in his gut, as if someone had slid up behind him and pressed the cold ache of a knife into his belly. 

He freezes with a sharp cry he can’t hold back, gaze locking on the wrecked fletchings of a orc arrow lodged in his gut. The Company’s natural noise falls to the wayside as a crackling sort of sound rushes in his ears, like the crash of waves upon rock as Fili gently prods wood and feather and feels his skin tearing even at the slightest movement. All of a sudden his breathing seems too loud, too pained, and Fili’s dismayed to feel his knees buckling underneath him even as an arm winds around his waist, careful, too careful, and Kili’s at his side as if he had never left, murmuring comfort between yells for Oin or Thorin or _anybody_.

All Fili knows is the feel of rocks digging into the back of his legs as Kili drags them to the ground, fingers feather soft as he removes bloodied layers and cuts away the tattered shirt so he doesn’t jostle the arrow. Orc arrows are crude sort of things made solely to tear through flesh and cause as much pain as possible, Fili remembers feverishly, so different from the slender points of Elvish arrows that are meant to be swift and near painless or Kili’s own that slide through skin like a knife through butter and can be removed nearly as cleanly. 

He can feel the slide of blood across his abdomen as Fili tries to keep still to prevent the arrow from lodging deeper. He tries, truly he does, but Kili can no doubt feel the trembling against his legs, can hear the soft keen that slips past lips even as Thorin falls to his knees next to them, something like panic bright in his eyes.

 _That’s not good_ , he thinks and moves as if to look where the arrow rests, only for Kili’s bloodied hands to catch at his jaw and prevent it. Fili winces, light eyes catching Kili’s beneath the heavy draw of his brow.

“Stop thinking,” Kili commands, tone imperious even as his expression crumbles under his worry. But it’s alright, he’ll be fine, because Thorin and Oin are at his side, conversing hurriedly as they try to figure out how to treat him.

_”Can’t pull it out--” “Might catch on something” “--cut it out?”_

Fili closes his eyes for a moment and tries not to whimper, tries to be strong if only for Kili’s sake because he looks so young with that fear on his face. The hands at his face tremble, fingers catching and soothing over braids as if in placation and there’s a sharp inhale when Fili feels warm hands and the sharp pain of metal at skin. Kili’s gaze flickers over, face paling, and that’s when the fear settles in his bones. A deep seated thing that clings even as he tries to smile and finds his lips twisting into a grimace, one hand clutching at grass and the edge of his coat, the other finding Thorin’s thigh and clinging to his tunic, as if he can hold them together. His uncle murmurs softly in Khazdul, soothes fingers along the trembling line of his arm even as he works the arrow from him and still Kili’s eyes are blown wide, sorrow and guilt heavy upon his features.

“Is it bad?” Fili manages to gasp, turning his head into the hand at his jaw, cheek pressing into palm as if to comfort and Kili tries to laugh and it comes out closer to a sob. He bends to press their foreheads together, gaze locked and though Fili makes no move to look again, his hold is strong enough to prevent it.

“Don’t look, brother, keep your eyes on me.”

Dimly Fili wonders when his brother grew up enough for his voice to sound so strong, but Fili thinks maybe this quest has aged them more than he’d thought. He worries, in a distant way that would scare him were he more aware of anything other than blinding pain and the feel of hands in his hair, if they’ll be anything like what they’d started out as if they make it through this. 

_Mahal_ , he hopes they make it.

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Kaciart's picture of a wounded Fili ala here: http://kaciart.tumblr.com/post/44112311781#notes and the title comes from the decemberists' song "This is Why We Fight".


End file.
